A dog, a siren and memories

Every night he waits for his master to come home
By himself he lays on the road all alone, he doesn't moan
Eight o'clock, soon his only master will appear
He'll wag his tail, though it seems so long since he was here, it's been a year
He used to come home with a bone and he thought he'd never be alone
He would curl up with him there by the fire on cold winter's nights so long ago
Poor dog can hear a siren that echoes in the night
A cringe of fear he recalls a year ago tonight, that flashing light, he died that night